


War Paint

by Epsy



Category: Basara (Anime & Manga), Sengoku Basara
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe I'll get to the porn one day who knows, This is probably cliche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epsy/pseuds/Epsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The men you fight,” Sasuke began abruptly. “They have an etiquette, a respect between them that means they follow the unspoken rules of honourable warfare. But there are other people out there too, with the same swords and the same skills. Those are the ones who would kill a lord in his sleep. It's my job to keep those people away from you and from Kai, and those battles happen in the dark, where they belong.” </p>
<p>Sasuke's past is catching up to him. He wants to outrun it, but Yukimura is going to face it head on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beyond the Battleground

“Does that really work?” Yukimura had been watching him for a while, but only ventured to speak as Sasuke swiped a stripe of black paint across one cheek. It was early, and the sky was dark, but the two were, out of habit, awake. 

Yukmiura could usually be found intensely training before the day began, whilst Takeda’s ninja prepared to steal whatever secrets that could be found in the small hours. But as the dust settled and his sweat cooled in the crisp morning air, the young general had found himself moving towards the courtyard well, and Sasuke balanced nonchalantly on its crumbling edge. 

“I hope so.” Sasuke eventually responded, flicking a further two stripes across his face. When he turned, he found himself nose to nose with an inquisitive Yukimura. “Or I’ll probably find an arrow in my forehead one day.”

“There’s no arrow in the world as fast as the ninja of Kai!” Yukimura declared proudly. “But I suppose some extra precaution couldn’t hurt.” 

Sasuke gave him a lopsided grin, but Yukimura’s expression grew thoughtful. 

“Although…hidden in the trees, you must not get to feel the glory of battle very often.”

“Not all of us are destined for glory, Danna.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve seen you fight! You battle with honour. It should happen where the world can see it, and respect your strength.” Yukimura’s grin was wide and white. Sasuke rubbed at his nose. He wondered idly if his master had every conversation mere centimetres from his partner. 

“I’ll take that as a great compliment.”

“As it was intended!”

The silence that fell was comfortable. The sky was paling with the rising sun, and the first sounds of the serving staff could be heard from the kitchens. Propping up his spears, Yukimura retreated to stand idly and watch the sun rise. 

“The men you fight…” Sasuke began abruptly. “They have an etiquette, a respect between them that means they follow the unspoken rules of honourable warfare. But there are other people out there too, with the same swords and the same skills. Those are the ones who would kill a lord in his sleep. It’s my job to keep those people away from you and from Kai, and those battles happen in the dark, where they belong.”

With a frown and pursed lips, Yukimura looked at his sandalled feet. Sasuke felt oddly awkward, although he’d explained small things like this to his young lord on more than one occasion. He focussed on tying on his head guard, and worked the straps on his armour plating. By the time he’d finished and collected his shuriken from their post on the floor, Yukimura’s brows were still furrowed. Sasuke turned to leave, but a small voice made him stay a moment longer. 

“I understand. Every soldier has his place in Kai. But Sasuke, you will fight with me in the light sometimes, won’t you?”

“I’ve always got your back, Captain.” Sasuke grinned and saluted. By the time he returned, this would be another lesson committed to the book that was Sanada Yukimura’s memory. The code for a future leader of Kai. 

 

———————-

 

Sarutobi Sasuke did not return for five days. 

At first, Yukimura thought nothing of it. Agents came and went at odd times, and some missions took longer than others. But when his meetings with Shingen involved the steady lord looking over his shoulder at the trees, Yukimura started to feel tense. If his lord was expecting Sasuke to report, then the ninja should be there. 

He should. But he wasn’t.

The Kai army was loading up for another campaign. There was that buzz in the air that Yukimura was usually excited to feel; the taste of expectancy. But he found his mind wandering and his heart couldn’t freely feel the building passion of fighting spirit. His eyes were always on the roofs and the trees. His fists were clenched tight around his spears to the point where his hands ached. 

But still, nothing. 

Finding sleep elusive, he left his bed to practice restlessly. The gardens were still and silent, and the slice of his blades through the air was satisfying and angry. He put them down. Rage alone was not right to fuel the movement of a weapon, he knew that. His fingers danced anyway, missing the grip.

A muffled clatter came from the water butt by the kitchen, and he raised his head. 

Yukimura was not sneaky by nature, but he was decently clever. Removing his sandals and taking the quietest path, he leant deftly around one corner to see what was disturbing the night. 

At the sight of camoflage fabric and dulled auburn, instant relief flooded down his body to his toes. The tension he’d been carrying for hours, days, fell away. But Sasuke’s shoulders were tight. Yukimura watched as he ripped off his armour and washed angrily at his arms and torso. When he tore off a strip of bandage to tie harshly around one arm, Yukimura realised. Sasuke was injured, and Sasuke was angry. To the point that Yukimura had been watching him for some time and yet still hadn’t been noticed. The young man jumped when Sasuke struck the trunk of a tree with a dull thud.

Yukimura backed away and stalked back to his weaponry, feeling like he had intruded, and now feeling a different kind of worry. Quietly, but not sneakily, he made his way to bed. If Sasuke heard the door slide closed, he didn’t say anything. 

 

——————-

 

The next morning, Sasuke was found at the well, and their regular routine returned. The heaviness of the previous night seemed to have dissipated, but Yukimura still felt a strange guilt that stopped him from approaching as his friend applied the familiar dark stripes.

“Danna!” Sasuke greeted, a companionable hand on his shoulder. “I’ll bet you’re excited! I hear that Oshu troops will intercept us about two day’s ride into the campaign. If Masamune-dono leads them, you’ll have a real challenge on your hands!”

The cocky grin, the stupid wink, nothing seemed to have changed. Yukimura filled his lungs with air and made an effort to push down his worries.“You bring great news Sasuke! My spears shall ring again against the claws of Dokugan Ryuu!” Yukimura roared at the sky and Sasuke laughed awkwardly. 

“Sure, sure.”

“Sasuke!” The ninja fell to one knee, head bowed. Yukimura turned to the meaty fist of Lord Shingen. “Report!” He heard the order, muffled somewhat by the rubble of the newly-destroyed wall in his ears.

“Worse than we thought, I’m afraid. There’s movement from the Western border and it seems there is a pincer attack being mounted on the Uesagi clan.”

“So you wrote to me. That is being dealt with. What kept you from reporting for three days, Sasuke?’ Shingen’s large arms crossed resolutely across his chest. There was a moment’s silence.

“A threat, my lord.” Yukimura had pulled himself from the wreckage, and watched the two curiously.

“Explain.”

“A threat against Kai, from an outside source. It’s not a clan, just a…group of deserters and thieves, mostly. It has been dealt with.”

“Names.” Yukimura could see the muscles in Sasuke’s neck tense despite his lowered head. His voice, however, betrayed nothing.

“Mochizuki Uhee. A deserter of the Ujimasa army. And… Ashikaga Koga.” Shogun said nothing. Sasuke reluctantly continued. “A ninja of the Koka-ryu.”

“What kind of threat?” 

Sasuke winced almost imperceptibly. “Against the young lord, and yourself.”

“Are they dead?”

“No.”

“Are they a direct threat to this campaign?”

“No, my lord. I’ll make sure of it.”

Shingen hummed deeply, and then sighed. 

“I trust you, Sasuke. Keep me informed if this situation changes. For now, we continue towards Uesagi. Dismissed.”

One gloved fist clenched tightly, and then with a nod, the ninja was gone. 

 

———– 

 

It took Yukimura more than an hour to find Sasuke amongst the hustle and bustle of preparing troops. He’d stopped the dark shapes of Sasuke’s ninja force to ask after him, but they’d each said the same thing. ‘Patrolling the border’. Along with the rest of them, it seemed. From the looks of things, the border force had been doubled.

In the end, he’d found the redhead on top of a grain barn looking out over the rice paddies. The sound of cicadas thrummed in the air, and the sun was hot. When he got close enough, he could see the lines of sweat that ran through the black paint of Sasuke’s cheeks as he sat on the roof, one leg dangling over the edge like a child. 

Yukimura didn’t say anything. He simply set down his spears next to the waiting shuriken -always within arm’s reach- and sat down himself. Their backs aligned and Yukimura let his head fall backwards to rest on Sasuke’s shoulder. 

“Something isn’t right.” He announced. Sasuke sighed. 

“Danna…”

Yukimura said nothing. Groping behind him, he finally found Sasuke’s hand. The black leather was hot from the sun, and the angle wasn’t the most comfortable, but he gripped it tightly non-the-less. They sat in the sun, and Yukimura felt the sweat build up under the Takeda symbol on his back. He wouldn’t move though. Sasuke wasn’t smiling, and so the world wasn’t right. He would stay until it was. 

“When you spoke of dishonourable men,” Yukimura began, “was this Mochizuki who you meant?”

Sasuke was momentarily silent. But then the weight of his head leaned against Yukimura’s cheek, and ginger hair tickled his neck, and his smooth voice carried on the meagre breeze.

“Mochizuki…is just a brute with a sword. He wouldn’t last two moments in a battle with you.”

“Hm.” Yukimura scuffed the rooftop with his heel. “Then, the ninja?”

Nothing about Sasuke changed, but something in the air did. Yukimura continued to scuff, fingers curled tightly around Sasuke’s hand. 

“Koga is someone I hoped never to see again.” Visions of rivalry disappeared from Yukimura’s head. Masamune Date had put him in some terrible moods, but he always hoped to see that one-eyed grin again. Yukimura knew that ninjas were different, with their own honour code, but even they crossed paths and had peculiar friendships. “You don’t need to think about it, though; I’ll never even let him even see your face.” The grip on his hand was momentarily crushing. 

It passed.

Yukimura stretched and turned around, flinging his arms around Sasuke’s neck to rest lazily on his chest. 

“Then he is so unimportant, I shall put him from my mind! Drink with me, Sasuke?” 

Able to partially see the red face of his lord, lightly sunburned and sheened with sweat, Sasuke found himself falling back into old habits. His thoughts suddenly were only to get his charge and master inside, away from the heat.

Shameful, he thought.

In one fluid moment, he had picked up boy and weapons both, and before Yukimura could blink they were all on the ground, and his feet lightly touched the earth. Sasuke was a soft strength around his shoulders.In the shade of the barn, he could feel the heat of sun touch on his face. And perhaps a blush.  
“I’m too big for that now.” He blurted, stepping quickly away. He kept his gazed fixed on the dirt at his feet, and held out one hand for his spears. Sasuke raised an eyebrow at him. Yukimura felt foolish, but his hand remained stubbornly open. 

“Big, yes, but never too big, Danna. Besides, your face is pretty funny when you’re surprised.” The spears were returned with a soft chuckle.

Yukimura gave him a hard shove in the arm.

“It doesn’t. And I wasn’t.”

“Of course you weren’t." 

“I really wasn’t.” 

“Hmmm…”

"Sasuke!” The ninja only shrugged. Yukimura began to pout, and his eyes grew round and wide. It was a look practised since childhood. Part of Sasuke wanted to believe that the young lord didn’t realise that he was doing it, but he knew the cunning streak under Yukimura’s thick skin of naivety. It was probably time to toughen both of them up if a simple expression could bend him to his master’s will.

But then, wasn’t that what ninjas were for, anyway?

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. You are my magnificent General who is never surprised, stunned, or alarmed. Please let my amend my mistake with a humble offering.” He punctuated the teasing apology with a low bow. Yukimura pretended for a moment to consider.

“Dango?” He asked. As they both knew that he would.

“If that is what my Captain wants…”

“Of course!" 

"What Danna wants, Danna gets. But only if I don’t eat it first.’ And with that, he sped into the fields.

Yukimura spluttered and rocketed behind him to catch up. It would have been easy to outdistance him, speedy as Sasuke was, but teasing the young brunette was much more preferable to simply winning. Disappearing for a moment, the ninja reappeared only to stick one foot between Yukimura’s pumping legs. The boy went flying, but before he could attempt to catch himself, he found himself righted.

"Nice trip, my lord?” Sasuke said, turning him to face the wrong direction. Yukimura went to box his ear but his hand only went through smoke. In the distance, the real ninja laughed. 

Sasuke passed two of his subordinates coming back into the heart of Kai territory. He was glad to see them continue on past Yukimura, and felt more at ease with the little tiger closer to home, inside his circle of protection. He looked back at the cloud of rising dust that was his racing lord, and shook his head at the familiar little jump in his chest. With aplomb he balanced himself on top of the gate post and waited. 

Yukimura was panting hard when he caught up. It was flattering to see that the future lord of Kai was willing to put real effort into their impromptu competition.  
As thanks, Sasuke dropped the latch on the gate. 

“Let me pass!” They were both aware that Yukimura was more than able to vault to fence. But this was more a game of will than strength. 

“You must grant me three requests!” 

“Is that really necessary?”

“Completely.” 

Yukimura crossed his arms. 

“Fine. What do you ask of me?” He submitted. Sasuke grinned at him, the sunlight glinting off his eyes.

“One,” he began, “tonight it’s your turn to get the good sake. And we’ll have it in your room, because the ninja hut is cold.” 

“But you know that I’m not suited to-”

“This gate has a mighty fine lock. I sure wouldn’t like to get locked out for the night if it happened to secure itself…” 

“Fine, I accept. What is the second demand?”

“Request, Danna. Anyway, number two.” He motioned with one gloved hand and Yukimura stepped forward. With a wink, Sasuke tapped his painted cheek, his grin threatening to touch the two sides of his face plate. Yukimura went red once again. “Chu chu, please, Captain.” 

Standing on his tip-toes, Yukimura put one hand on the ninja’s knee and pressed his lips to one high cheekbone. Smooth warmth was beneath his lips. It had been a while since they had done that, but at the familiar sight of Sasuke looking pleased as punch when he pulled back, Yukimura wondered why. 

Making a small cough into his fist, Sasuke continued. 

“Finally, you must admit that Sarutobi Sasuke is the best ninja of all ninjas, so stunningly handsome and clever and fast that he beat Kai’s own young lord in a race to the death! Well. To the dango, anyway.” 

“Of course! That one isn’t even hard. It’s true that the ninjas of Kai lay waste to all other ninjas! And their leader is the…” He paused to remember. “The 'most handsome, clever, and fast’ of all! And by all rights, you did win the race.” 

Yukimura’s hand were proudly on his hips. Sasuke nodded cheerily and flipped down from the gate. With a smooth motion it was unlocked and swung wide. 

“Come on then, since you honoured all of my requests, I shall 'aquire’ some dango from the cook.” Yukimura’s stomach chose that moment to loudly rumble, and Sasuke threw his head back and laughed. Somehow, in only moments of his day, Yukimura had managed to chase the things that plagued him to the back of his mind. He slung one arm around the shoulders of his danna, mindful of the protruding spears, and began to lead him to the kitchens. 

“You can even have two, if you’d like.” 

There was an almighty racket coming from the kitchens as Yukimura sat under the awning outside. He could hear the abused head chef cursing, and steam exploded from the barred, wooden window in a sudden jet.

He awkwardly twiddled his thumbs and looked at his toes. The chef would surely just give them sweets if they asked…but Sasuke insisted on playing pranks. 

A bamboo basket rolled out of the door and he he winced.

“Don’t make such a pained face.” Sasuke was peering over the awning above him, hair dangling and cheeks going red from being upside-down. “He’ll calm down in a few minutes, and then everyone will have something to joke about for another week.”

“So…you’re saying that pranks on the chef raise troop morale?”

“Um, yes, exactly. 

"Then I suppose I won’t tell you off for disturbing our cook. He’s a vital component in the Kai army, Sasuke!”

“You would say that, since he is responsible for food.” Sasuke teased. Yukimura was unashamed.

“Food is important.” Sasuke watched his face, and as the thought dawned, it lit up and Yukimura’s eyes sparkled. “That reminds me! Dango?”

Sasuke laughed and disappeared from the overhang. Yukimura didn’t even blink when he reappeared next to the young lord, sitting on the veranda. In his hands was a small, green leaf pouch. The mitarashi sauce leaked from one corner onto his glove, and he licked it off without thinking. He didn’t notice Yukimura watching him intently. 

Plucking one of the sticks from the dark, saucy depths, he held it out.

“Danna?” He prompted. Yukimura started.

“Sorry. Thank you.” Sasuke raised an eyebrow at him but Yukimura ignored it, and promptly bit a ball from the top of the stick. 

Sasuke customarily was not someone who enjoyed sweet things. But with a master like Yukimura, you had to like them, or at least become accustomed to them. The dango was rich, the company was good. He was reminded, as he had been many times before, of how lucky he was to have ended up somewhere so kind. 

“Is there another?” He was knocked from his reverie by Yukimura’s ungloved hand peeling back the remaining leaves of the parcel in his lap. He caught the hand and deftly swiped the final stick out of reach. 

Yukimura lunged after it as best he could, landing more in Sasuke’s lap than close to the treat. 

“Sasuke~” he whined. “Your teasing is too much today.” Sasuke didn’t release his captive hand, but he did cock his head in surprise. 

“Really?”

“You make nothing simple!”

“Maybe I’m stalling. Because I don’t want either of us to have to leave.” They both fell silent. 

“Sir!” A faceless ninja emerged from nowhere and knelt low on the ground, but Sasuke did not break eye contact with his lord.

“What is it?" 

"Lord Shingen requests you attend him in the main hall.”

“Understood.” Sasuke uncurled Yukimura’s naked hand and then wrapped it carefully around the dango stick. Yukimura let out a breath as a half sigh. “Dismissed.” He ordered. The ninja was instantly gone. 

“You have to go again.”

“Probably.” Reluctantly, they separated and stood. Sasuke rolled his shoulders. 

“If it’s short, I’ll be back by tonight. So you’d better remember that sake.” He gave Yukimura a light push. 

Yukimura gave a wan smile in return. 

“I’ll stay awake.” He promised. 

 

——————-

 

Sasuke had delivered Shingen’s message, made Kasuga blush, and picked up some extra rice wine from Uesagi. He was in high spirits. The sun was only just beginning to set, and he was already on the way home with no further tasks until the next morning. 

And one of the infamous Yukimura and Sasuke Get Drunk nights awaited him. The newly aquired alcohol sloshed comfortingly against his hip, strapped tightly against his light leaps from tree to tree. 

Sasuke didn’t like to have a 'usual’ route back to Kai; that spelled disaster. But this was one of his favourites, and there was some smoothing on the branches where he usually trod. It was this smoothing that gave the trap away. 

He landed deftly on a tree nearby, and climbed over to peer at the thin wire suspended above the slightly shiny bark. Leaves were disturbed everywhere he looked, and a few careless footprints had been left under ferns on the forest floor. Designed to trap a limb and tear the muscle once it had caught hold, the trap in the trees was a nasty contraption. He cut it with a hidden kunai and pocketed the thread for later examination. 

His good mood was gone. 

Further along the trail, there were two or three more. These he triggered with twigs, but he called his crow to him anyway with messages for his own ninjas, and one for Kasuga, that the route was unsafe. He moved higher, into the lighter branches. They didn’t support his weight so sturdily, but he could grip the thin limbs above with one hand and balance if he moved quickly enough.  
He almost missed the body. 

It was only the loud buzzing of the summer flies that lead him to the corpse of one of Uesagi’s ninja collective. The message satchel was gone, and the crests torn away, but he knew it wasn’t a member of Kai. Blood stained the tree trunk like a gory, motionless waterfall. 

He debated whether or not to draw his shuriken, unsure if he should favour lightness or defense. In the end, he drew one, and relied more heavily on his weight being supported by the one arm. He cursed himself for having sent the crow away with messages. 

It was a slow movement through the trees, but after a while, he saw no further traps or disturbances in the general foliage. He cautiously moved down and drew his second shuriken. When he stopped briefly, there was only the sound of the forest; not even the river broke the dense heat of the trees. He took one steadying breath and moved to the next branch.

It took him a few seconds to register the stinging burn in his right arm. At first he wondered if his armour had moved out of place, but when it tugged insistently with a screaming pain in his wrist, right between his armour joints, his stupid mistake made itself very clear. 

The next blow was aimed at his ankles. He jumped to avoid it, but the pressure on his wrist sucked all the strength from it, and one shuriken crashed to the forest floor below. With the remaining weapon he deflected two more projectiles, sliced himself loose, and left the trees for the mud. 

“I thought he said you were a decent ninja.” A voice came from the undergrowth, and then the slicing pain was around one ankle. Suddenly his nose was full of dirt. The sake jar had smashed and the dizzying smell of apricot rice wine filled the air. 

He was on his back in time to block two more.

“The old Sasuke would never have fallen for such a simple trick. I thought I’d only catch Kai’s smallest fish. Here I am with the king koi.” Sasuke ignored it, but tracked its direction as he sliced the wire from his ankle. Part of it remained, a circle of pain on the joint. He stood anyway. 

The voice had been coming from his left, but tracking it had been a waste of time. A generically green-clad figure walked noisily through the bushes into plain sight. Insulting to let another ninja see you so blatantly. But then, Sasuke supposed, he had been caught twice already. His face burned accordingly. 

“You can’t blame me. You had that ridiculous smile on your face again. I told you that you look better when you brood.” Koga. Tall, thin, fast. Like most of them. His hair was black and fine, tucked neatly into a tail at the back, and his nose was thin under the three stripes of paint down his face. Sasuke’s heart fell to his toes, and he tried to go into battle mode. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

“Your generic arch enemy speech is a stereotype, even for you.”

“And your footwork is sloppy and your defences are weak.” Sasuke glared at him. He was right. He’d underestimated this man. After a week of being completely on his guard, he’d let slip for one moment. And, rightly, it had cost him. Koga sheathed all but one of his wire-embedded kunai. “You’re soiling my name.” 

“I never took your name to soil.” 

“No, that’s right. You preferred Sasuke the Monkey.” 

“Sarutobi. Of Kai.”

Koga laughed. 

“Monkey of Kai, Monkey of Koka, what difference is there?”

Plenty, Sasuke thought. 

“Koka fell, you know.” Sasuke swallowed thickly and searched the ground with his eyes for his fallen shuriken. Nothing. There was a gap in the trees up above and he surmised it was about three meters away. “Most of them burned. The rest of us got rich. You would have too, if you’d have stayed. You wouldn’t have had to be a minder to a boy who isn’t even a real lord.” 

 

Sasuke didn’t take the bait, only waited. So when the familiar burn strapped across his chest, and the tree bark rubbed raw against his back, and Koga was in his face, he was ready. 

“Are you even listening, Sasuke?” With one hand Koga spread Sasuke’s paint down his face, in a clumsy mimicry of Koga’s own. “There. That’s better. Now you look like yourself again.” As he felt the leather against his chin, and the breath against his face, he ignored the wire across his shoulders to drive his clawed glove into Koga’s stomach. 

 

The plip-plop of blood onto the dry soil was the only noise for a moment, before the dark-haired ninja stumbled back. Without pause, Sasuke cut the final wire and fled the scene. His face burned, his wounds burned, and he had never felt so full of shame. 

And when he stumbled into Kai, smelling of blood and apricot rice wine, still looking over one shoulder, there was only one room his limping feet would take him to.


	2. Before the Storm

Yukimura had not been sleeping. By the light of only a few lanterns, he tried to memorise tactical manoeuvres and battle plans from scrolls on his table. The lines kept blurring, and his eyes kept flicking back to the bottle of sake sitting, fat, on the floor by the door.

It was no use. His mind wasn’t taking in a single thing, even though he was trying hard to fill the time until the ninja returned. Collecting the scrolls and parchments, he took an armful to a chest and dropped them inside carefully. He almost slammed the lid when a loud crash clattered behind him.

“Shit.” In a scattering of blood and muck, Sasuke was inside his door. A shuriken had made its way to his futon, leaving scratches in the wood and spilling his ink like an omen across the floor.

“Sasuke!” He ran to the awkward huddle that was his ninja, and fought down the rising panic. Thrusting a shoulder underneath Sasuke’s arm, Yukimura moved him to the futon and gently let him down. The amount of blood was staggering, and it scared him.

When he moved to take off the armour, a gloved hand caught his arm and gripped it tightly. He looked at Sasuke’s face, buried in his other hand. His expression was unreadable, but the desperate grip on Yukimura’s forearm spoke of several levels of pain. For a moment, he simply returned to kneeling on the futon, and Sasuke’s head fell heavily forward against his chest. With one shaking hand he smoothed the tangled auburn locks, and let the silence settle. Without being conscious of it, Yukimura began to sway slightly.

Eventually, logic and worry won out, and Yukimura knew he had to treat the wounds. Winding one arm around Sasuke’s shoulders, he began to awkwardly remove the armour plating with the other so that he could keep contact. He held the older man closely as he worked, worrying that he was causing more pain but knowing that he couldn’t stop. Sasuke was silent.

The gouges in the arm guard were deep, and as he moved to take the cape, he realised it was barely a piece of clothing any longer. Just scraps of green and black.

“I need to sit you up.” He said, carefully keeping his voice low and calm. Sasuke didn’t resist this time as Yukimura moved about, finally getting him down to the basic black underclothing. There was the clotting red-brown of blood everywhere. Noticeably across his shoulders, and down one arm. Yukimura was anxious to know what had happened. He had seen Sasuke injured before, it was a given in their line of work, but it was always quickly dealt with by the ninja himself. Sasuke was, after all, a professional.

There couldn’t be an attack coming, or Sasuke surely would have said already, he was sure. He wondered for a moment if he should check whether the ninja still had a tongue, and the thought made him feel suddenly violent. Brown eyes burned in the half-light.  
He pushed that reflex away and instead carefully lifted Sasuke’s face, eyes widening at the three stripes running from forehead to chin.

No blood though. A small relief. But instead, tears.

 Sasuke was quick to turn his face away.

Pretending he hadn’t seen anything was the hardest challenge Yukimura felt he’d ever faced in his life. Forcing himself to get up, he fetched the washcloth and water bowl and placed them on the tatami mat beside the futon.

Methodically, he picked up the worst affected arm and began to wipe away the dirt and blood. In seconds, the clear water of the bowl was a murky red. Wipe, rinse. Check for wounds. Wipe, rinse. Repeat.

When they had been younger, Sasuke had had nightmares. About death and shadows and flames…nothing specific. Yukimura had never pried, being too young at the time to fully understand, and too reserved as he got older to bring it up. This was coupled with the choice few smacks and bumps he’d received for daring to see the ninja cry. Sasuke had gone easy on him; one of the kitchen boys had stumbled on him and had a black eye and swollen jaw for a week. People had learned quickly not to comment on the teen’s occasional breakdowns.

 After a while, the servants of the castle just assumed he’d grown out of them. But Yukimura knew that he hadn’t, because he’d wake up to a near-silent sobbing in the night. And without any comment, would simply put one little arm around the shaking form until they both fell asleep.

 He’d always been honoured to be trusted with those moments.

 The abrasions were deep, and messy. They’d scar horribly, definitely, and be very easily consumed by infection. In all likelihood Sasuke would be out of commission for a good fortnight, which was the worst thing to hear the eve of a brewing campaign. But somehow, none of that seemed to matter.

 Yukimura rifled through Sasuke’s things until he found a small medical pack. From it he took salve and a needle. He worked the salve into the skin and felt his heart rip a little every time Sasuke took in a shuddery breath at the pain. Then he held up the needle and considered.

 He untied his headband and folded it over to make a thick rectangle of cloth. This he held to the grimace that was Sasuke’s mouth.

 “You should bite on this. It’s going to hurt.” He tried to put the apology in his tone, knowing that giving it words would only make Sasuke retreat further. The lips parted trustingly and he pressed the cloth gently between them. Without ceremony he plucked some of the hairs from Sasuke’s head, and made a makeshift thread. At the very least, his body shouldn’t reject its own cells.

Without wince or blink, Yukimura made the first stitch.

An angry noise exploded from Sasuke, part groan and part scream. Yukimura couldn’t tell what parts of it were reactions to the pain and which were simply extensions of whatever emotions seemed to have taken over his retainer. Trying to ignore them he made neat stitches, focussing on rows and spaces, and not on skin and sinew. It took him the exhausting better part of an hour to precisely close each wound on Sasuke’s upper body. 

By the time he’d finished, the cries had died to mere grunts of pain now and again. Although Sasuke’s face was still gripped in one hand, there were no more sobs, and no more shaking. Yukimura placed one steady, comforting hand on Sasuke’s thigh.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?” He asked. He found his tongue too think for his mouth all of a sudden, and wondered when he’d last swallowed. Sasuke seemed to understand though, taking out the cloth of headband from his mouth with a strange reverence.

 “My ankle.” He said, flatly. Yukimura was still relieved just to hear him finally speak.

Working his way to tabi-clad feet, he tried to work off the left. A hiss of pain stopped him.

“No,” Sasuke warned him, “that’s not going to work. Use the knife.” Yukimura nodded, though he doubted whether the ninja could see. In a few short, careful strokes, the woven tabi fell away to reveal the wire still deeply pressing into the raw skin of Sasuke’s ankle. It was too tight for a knife. 

Thinking quicky, mind racing for a solution, Yukimura thrust his hand into one of Sasuke’s gloves. Slightly too small for it, he could still keep decent control, and so inched one claw under the wire.

Sasuke bit down hard on his own fist. Working as quickly as he could without causing further damage, Yukimura snapped the wire and wiped away the dirt. A fresh wave of blood welled and he ripped bandages from the kit to wind as tightly as he could around the surprisingly slender limb.

When he was done, and the slightest red bloom was starting to show through the white linens, they were both out of breath. They looked at each other in the dim glow of the lanterns, now burning at their gutters. 

“Is that everywhere?” Yukimura asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Came the quick reply. A strange tension seemed to settle, and as Yukimura looked at his handiwork, he thanked the stars that he’d still been at the castle to try and patch the ninja up. Did he trust anyone else to touch him like that? Yukimura wondered. Would this ankle just have festered for a night to become a lethal trap in the morning? He raised the abused ankle and propped it on all the pillows within reach. From his space between Sasuke’s legs he couldn’t see the ninja’s eyes, but he knew he was being watched. With every wish for wellbeing in his heart, he looked away from where he thought Sasuke’s head to be and placed a slow, light kiss to his ankle, before lowering it to the makeshift prop.

Sasuke seemed to stiffen.

“Danna…” He breathed.

Yukimura felt so heavy, so tired now that the initial panic was over. Just one more thing to do.

He took the travel pack and discarded the glove. Instead taking up the washcloth washcloth wringing it out, and carrying both like a holy relics to the top of the futon. Taking Sasuke’s astounded face by the chin, he carefully wiped the three vertical stripes and mess of tear stains from the ninja’s face. 

“D-don’t-!” Sasuke stammered, moving to catch his hands but too weak to fully stop them. Yukimura stared dumbfounded at the scars on either cheek, perfect semicircles along the cheekbones. Giving up Yukimura’s wrist, Sasuke looked down to hide them with the freed wisps of his hair. 

For a few beats, neither of them moved. 

“Let me finish, Sasuke.” It was rare that Yukimura ordered anyone outside of a battlefield, but his tone was clear. The budding voice of a commander in the small vessel of a young man. Sasuke couldn’t deny it. He lifted his head to stare anxiously into some dark corner, unable to meet the honey-eyes of his master.  
Yukimura waited until the head was raised again without coercion, and then he finished his cleaning with three quick swipes. He deliberately ignored the scars and made sure to erase the strange lines of dirty paint completely. Dropping the cloth carelessly to the floor, a thought came to him, and he delved into the pack once more. 

When light fingerstips grazed his scarred cheeks, Sasuke’s eyes snapped back to align with Yukimura’s. The young lord was engrossed in precisely reapplying the paint to Sasuke’s face. The tiny tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration.

“What…are you doing?” Sasuke asked, meekly.

“You said that this paint worked. You said it hid and protected you. Tonight, it can hide you so that you’re safe.” Yukimura clipped the lid back on and wiped the remains that were staining his fingers messily down his white yukata. Then, matter of factly, he placed one gentle kiss to Sasuke’s forehead and pushed him down. “And I will hide and protect you too, so rest now, okay?”

With his back to the soft plush of the futon and a warm arm flung with care over his chest, Sasuke could only stare at the dark of the ceiling for a few moments.  
Collecting himself, he used his best arm to pull Yukimura forward and slot the two of them together, foreheads lightly touching and a new warmth down his side. 

“Thank you, Danna.” He whispered. There didn’t seem to be enough syllables in that simple phrase to communicate everything that he felt, the immense gratitude at the help he’d been given, at the bottomless understanding and acceptance that Yukimura simply radiated. He returned the kiss to the unbound forehead of his lord, and another to each cheek.  
“Thank you.”

 

———————-

 

As he came slowly back to consciousness, Sasuke could feel each wound as a deep burn. The salve made them tingle oddly, taking away the worst bite of the pain but not managing to dull it completely. Also, his arm was numb.

When he opened his eyes to the wan light of morning, he realised it was because Yukimura was using his arm as a pillow. Half on, half off the futon, the young lord was curled protectively around his side. The practice staff that usually rested on a display stand against the wall was wedged down the boy’s side, clutched loosely in his hand. Despite his headache, Sasuke smiled.

He tried to slip away delicately, but the pain made his movements sluggish or sharp, and it was inevitable that Yukimura woke.

“What are you doing?” He asked as Sasuke tried clumsily to stand. A single tanned hand was enough to pull him gently back into the sheets. “You need to stay in bed for at least a couple of days, Sasuke.” A tinge of that orderly tone edged Yukimura’s voice. Sasuke pretended he hadn’t heard it there.

“I have a report to give to our resident tiger. There are things that he needs to know before the campaign begins. I don’t have time to lay in bed.” Sasuke gave him a mock pout. “Even with you.” Yukimura swatted his head, but there was no true force behind it.

“You’re staying here and you’re just going to have to deal with that. I can go and tell oyakata-sama whatever he needs to hear, or he can come here to hear it from you.” The boy rose and straightened his yukata, placing the staff back on its rack. He yawned loudly. “Which will it be?”

Sasuke considered. His options were to reveal his idiocy to his Danna, who no doubt would ask every probing question that came to his mind, or try and explain the situation to his lord from the bed of a very dishevelled cub of Kai, stinking of apricot rice wine and generally looking suspicious. Such options.

“I’m not sure either of those courses are the wisest of ideas, Danna…” Sasuke couldn’t find any more will to argue as Yukimura peeled off the top part of the rumpled fabric he’d slept in, then stepped lightly out of his hakama. He left them in a red pile on the floor. Sasuke tutted at the mess partially from habit, and partially from needing a distraction from the sudden nakedness.

Yukimura was, as always, all long muscle and hyperactivity. He slammed his arms into the muscles of his leather jacket, and fumbled around with the armour at his belt.

“Come here.” Sasuke sighed. Yukimura was at his side instantly. “Help me to sit up.” Cushions were slotted behind him and Yukimura wove his arms around Sasuke’s back. Together they managed to get him to a decent sitting position without opening any stitches, and he let out a shallow breath. Yukimura knelt beside him, practically made of energy. He always had been a morning person.

Reaching out, he tugged the scewed armour at Yukimura’s hips into a semblance of order. Nimble fingers undid the messy ties and retied them securely. It was a routine they’d had since their very first meeting up until Yukimura had matured into a teenager. He was decidedly less fidgety now, of course. And the armour was new, too. But the sweet nostalgia sprouted happiness in the both of them.

“You don’t need to do that, Sasuke, you should probably lie back down.”

“I want to, though.” Yukimura made a little half pout, eyebrows creasing in concern. They had a moment’s worth of staring each other down. Then Yukimura hopped up and fetched the comb from the drawer.

He climbed back on to futon with it, and carefully settled between Sasuke’s legs, taking a moment to straighten the ninja’s ankle on the comforter. The dressings needed changing, he noted. There was no discolouration, and the swelling was only as bad as he’d expected. He turned to Sasuke with a smile.

“Will you dress my hair?” He asked.

“Of course.” Sasuke took the comb that was held out to him, and then smirked. “Goodness knows what mess you’ll make of it if I let you attempt it on your own.”

“I do just fine on my own!"

"If the birds nest look was what you were going for, then…”

“Does it really look awful?” Yukimura pulled the ponytail over one shoulder and ran his fingers through the knots. Sasuke reached up to ruffle his hair with his good arm.

“No. You look fine. I’m just kidding around.” He smiled and lifted the comb. “Shall we fix you up?"

Yukimura turned and felt the twine being carefully removed from his hair. Sasuke’s inner thighs were warm around his hips, and he briefly regretted having attached his armour.

It was soothing, having his hair brushed. He hummed in appreciation.

"If you like,” he said, “any day that you don’t have a mission, you could come and dress my hair in the mornings."

“I’m so grateful Danna, truly I am the most honoured of all men.” Sasuke’s sarcasm made the young lord realise how forward his proposition was. He blushed and idly rubbed his nose.

“Sorry, um. I mean, I would like it..if you had the time…” An arm snaked its way around his neck to pull him lightly against the ninja’s chest. 

“I think that I would like that too.” Sasuke conceded. He pressed a kiss to Yukimura’s temple, wondering if it was too much to be so close, to act so familiar. But everything hurt, and dark thoughts threatened to swoop back in every time he looked away from Yukimura’s form. And here was his master, offering him acceptance and love, and a place to escape to. He decided, inappropriate or not, he would do whatever he liked unless it upset the young man in his arms.

Giving Yukimura’s arm a light squeeze, he moved back and began to run the comb slowly through the hair before him.

The golden brown strands began to shine under his fingers as he smoothed out each section. Yukimura smelt like bath oils and leather, which was a refreshing break from blood and muck. Despite being done, he didn’t tie the leather thong around the brunette fall, instead just playing with it and watching the light catch the hidden reds and golds.

Yukimura’s eyes were closed. Sasuke studied the profile of his cheek as he worked, using the view of the boy at peace to mentally prepare himself for the tasks that lay before him. He took up the band and tied it securely in place.

"Danna, I think it’s time to report to Lord Shingen.” He said, resolutely. Yukimura turned to face him. He itched to touch him, just to lay down again curled up together in the warm dark. But he knew that if he did, his resolve would melt. That was no way to live, comfortable as it might be. Yukimura held his gaze, and then gave a sharp nod.

“Alright.” Straightening the covers around Sasuke’s waist, he stood lithely to retrieve a yukata, which he draped over the ninja’s shoulders. Opening the shutters, he breathed in the cool air before turning to face Sasuke from the window.

“I’ll be back shortly, and afterwards I’m sending for the healer to redress everything. You’re not allowed to stand on that ankle, understood?”

Sasuke chuckled warmly.

“Yes sir."

The cub of Kai loitered in the room, reluctant to leave. Without any further excuses to stay by Sasuke’s side, eventually he gave a little nod, and turned for the door.

As Yukimura stepped out of the room, and the stillness descended, Sasuke felt hollow. Thick like dead wood. He supposed it wasn’t bad, not like the sharp sting of whatever emotions had bombarded him the night before. He wondered idly if Koga was dead, and if he would have preferred to grind his face into the ground when he killed him instead of the relatively clean cut he’d landed in reality. He grimaced wryly to himself. In the end, he’d been lucky to get out of there at all. Lucky and stupid.

The buzz of his wounds was becoming more pronounced. He tried to ignore them, but in the end became only curious. Looking beneath the covers he peeled some of the dressings away to reveal the angry red of lacerated skin. It wasn’t so terrible. His master had done a good job of treating him. But then, to be a formidable warlord, treating wounds was a very basic skill that was required. He had the sudden and very unwanted thought that perhaps Yukimura was outgrowing him. The wounds on his flesh seemed to stand testament to his inability to keep up.

 

———–

 

Oyakata-sama had followed him without a word being exchanged between them. Yukimura merely accepted that his lord was probably already aware of Sasuke’s position in his room; he expected that the imposing figure before him even knew the cause of Sasuke’s distress, and the culprit who had dared to attack a ninja of Kai.

As they worked their way up the steep stairs and through the gloom of the wooden walkways, Yukimura wondered if he should be present for Sasuke’s report. Would Sasuke want him there? He still didn’t know anything about the situation and despite the need to understand burning in his bones, he didn’t want to make Sasuke any further uncomfortable. They’d reached the corridor leading to the open door of Yukimura’s room, and Shingen suddenly stopped. 

“This situation is as I feared.” He stated bluntly, voice made small so that it wouldn’t carry. “Yukimura, I have no doubts in Sasuke’s competence. However, there are times in life when even the most fearsome of men require assistance. A good leader should always understand when to leave a man to his own fight, and also when to step in for his own good. Do you understand?”

Yukimura nodded. “Yes, Oyakata Sama.” A large hand came to rest on his head, and it patted the unruly hair there once.

“Good. Let’s go.” Shingen swirled about, the loose folds of his clothes billowing, and Yukimura was once again awed by his enigmatic nature. He jogged after, wondering which of the two instances applied to Kai’s ninja.  
Oyakata-sama briefly filled the doorway, all muscled shoulders and meat fists, but then he came a knelt by the bed. 

“Yukimura, shut the door.” He said. Sasuke resisted the urge to jump into a crouch, and prostrate himself in some way before his lord. He could feel his face reddening, filled as he was with shame that he not only lay in front of the leader of Kai, but did so with careless injuries in his young charge’s bed. And all while the lord himself knelt on the floor. Unacceptable, he thought, I really have become an unacceptable ninja.

“Sasuke.” Shingen’s voice was a deep timbre resonating through Sasuke’s chest. “You have worried me.” Sasuke looked up in surprise.

“My lord?”

“You are not yourself. I hope you won’t hold it against me that I spent time finding out why this is so, or at least I hope you can forgive me. A man’s past should always remain there, where it belongs, but it seems yours has come knocking on our door.”

Sasuke hung his head.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“As am I.” There was silence. “Sasuke, before you came to us I was told about your past. Kai is a place of second chances, and you have been nothing but loyal and devoted, so I let it lie. I wish now that I had pursued the facts, and then perhaps this may have been avoided. I never did know any names, but if I had…anyway. I wanted to remind you that no-one holds you accountable for the destruction of the Koka clan, and that it is not your job to avenge them. I wanted to remind you that your loyalty is to Kai, and that your place will always be here.” He pulled the ninja’s head briefly to his chest. His heart hurt for his two boys.

“You are relieved from duty for three days, during which you will stay here in the castle with the support troops and home defence. Yukimura!” The boy stiffened by the door. 

“Yes sir?”

“There has been a change of plan. You will ride out to join me in three days with the support troops, breaking through Mochizuki’s camp and regrouping with the Kai army ahead of Uesagi. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” 

“When you join me on the front again Sasuke, I expect no further mistakes. Give your heart to Kai, and let it heal you. You are to watch over Yukimura, in light of the recent rumours. Write me a full report and send it by bird within the day. Don’t let me down.”

With that, the bear of a man released him and stood to leave the room. As he passed Yukimura, he spoke under his breath.

“This is all the time I can allow either of you. Use it wisely.” He instructed. And then he was gone, and Yukimura was left struck at how sedate the whole meeting had been. From the hall he heard the quiet order to the medic that reports were to be flown directly to Shingen’s squadron on the ninja’s condition. His lord’s actions and tone made Yukimura uneasy. He’d never heard of the Koka clan, or of anything pertaining to Sasuke’s past. He supposed Sasuke must have been doing something before the fateful day when he exploded into Yukimura’s life, but he’d always assumed it had been similar to his own childhood; playing and learning in the Sarutobi village. Shingen’s subdued tones made everything seem so serious and dark.

 And then there was no more time, as the medic bowed to him and took his place by Sasuke’s side, and Yukimura was suddenly busy with fetching water and fresh linens.

 Oyakata-sama had allowed him to remain behind with Sasuke, to make sure that he was alright. But to Yukimura, it only made him feel like everything was more wrong than ever.

 

——————

 

Yukimura watched as the troops filed out of the Takeda castle, the clanking of armour and weaponry echoed through the morning air. Shingen had lead the most eager at the front with whoops and war cries, men ready to taste war again galloping at his heels. Behind them fell the infantry and less eager, marching at a steady pace into the mist of the morning. Yukimura sent his hopes of fair and honourable battles after them, feeling oddly satisfied despite being left behind.

Sasuke had slept deeply since the medic changed his dressings. The little, bespectacled man man had assured Yukimura that this was to be expected, and only suggested that his body’s healing systems were doing their work. He had tied up his own hair that morning after a night in the guest room beside his own, but the memory of slim fingers running through his hair remained clearly in his mind. He smiled.

Climbing the steep wooden steps, he was passed by some of Sasuke’s small ninjas. He wondered who had informed them of their master’s condition, and then summarised that they had probably done their own spying on the two of them. He hadn’t seen any leave with the initial force, and even though that didn’t necessarily mean they were all still in Kai, he was fairly certain that most of them continued their patrols of the border.

The bedroom, when he entered, was light and airy. He had tried hard to banish any sense of illness with the open window and light incense slowly smoking on the low table. He could take the time to train, but Yukimura felt a sense of unease when he was away from Sasuke. He wondered what kind of state the ninja might wake up in if he did so alone. So he took out his scrolls and began the boring task of reading the messy jottings of some long-lost general, and tried to concentrate.

The only sounds for a good few hours were the turning of crusted pages and birds outside the window. Yukimura found it odd that Sasuke never seemed to move in his sleep. If he hadn’t been long used to the ninja’s sleeping habits, he might have worried that he’d slipped away in his dreams. As it was, when Sasuke shot upright, it shocked the both of them.

Heart beating thunderously, Yukimura stammered out;

"Are you alright?”

“Hn, yes.” Sasuke responded, relaxing from his defensive position. Yukimura didn’t move, giving him time to adjust to where he was.

“You’ve been asleep for a long while."

He watched as Sasuke’s gaze went from the cold breakfast by his bed, to his ankle, now propped up decently.

"A very long while.” The red-head agreed. “Have they moved out?"

"Yes. A few hours ago.”

“I see."

"You should eat.” Yukimura prompted. Sasuke shrugged and reached for the rice beside him. He didn’t eat any.

“I’m sorry to still be bothering you like this, I’ll be out of your room by the evening.” Running one hand down his bandaged arm, Sasuke tested the strength of his grip on the rice bowl. It seemed to be sturdy, despite the flaring pain.

“You’re going to stay."

"Danna, for a ninja to stay in the room of his lord, it looks-”

“I don’t care how it looks. There is no point in risking you. There’s not a fighter in this country who thinks that you are just a ninja to me, Sasuke.” Yukimura stood and stalked towards him, dropping heavily beside the futon. “Except maybe for you."

Sasuke wondered at Yukimura’s choice of words. If anyone else had said them, he would have accepted it as a confession. But Yukimura was too blunt to hide a confession in words like that. He’d probably just come right out with 'I love you…”

Sasuke found he had made himself blush.


End file.
